Realistic or Modern 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖳 𝖯𝖠𝖢𝖪 — characters

[demonology]

​

⊹₊ ⋆ Just, you know, call me when you get home?​

This is the CS thread for Brat Pack. Since this is meant to be a fun, light-hearted rp, you do not have to make a full sheet. Instead, you're welcome to write a little summary or in-character blurb from their perspective. Just be sure to include somewhere:
— Name
— Age
— Role (the roles given are completely optional and don't have to be interepreted exactly. However, whether you're making a complete OC or using the roles as a starting point, please write down a role "title.")
— Sexuality + Pronouns
— Visage (fc or description)

 

[demonology]

JUDI ; THE PUNK

i love gross. disgust me!

♡coded by uxie♡

⊹₊ ⋆ There's not much to say anymore... it's all gone to shit.

— NAME: Judi
— AGE: twenty-three
— ROLE: the punk
— SEXUALITY: bisexual; masc-lean
— PRONOUNS: she/her; transfemme

VISAGE: A lithe woman of 6'0 even with large, brown eyes and hair. A close visual reference is Ethel Cain/Hayden. Her face is scarred with acne, which has mostly calmed down but is still prone to pop up. There are various, half-closed holes in her face from piercings she's gotten over the years and taken out and then repierced again (including her eyebrow piercings and bridge. Presently, she has a nose stud, a Marilyn, and a labret. Her body is covered in tattoos, mostly those that she's gotten for free from friends who have used her body as practice or from random people she's met along her many travels.

SCENT: a mix of cigarette smoke, weed, and sandalwood. Occasionally, she smells like rosewater perfume.

STYLE: little-shirt, big-pants combo ALWAYS; baggy sweaters; acid-wash denim worn to hell with patches on the ass; honestly, patches on anything and everything; crop tops; lingerie and nightgowns worn as dresses; her brother's concert tees; denim jacket

---

⊹₊ ⋆ We were formed at the cleft between what is bred wrong and what is most holy​

I am so burnt out, so I'm just gonna do some elaborate bullet points and save the prose for the IC!

— from a rural part of Michigan called Welton; hails from Sunny Trails Trailer Park; spent her youth in the backwoods, hiding out in an abandoned shotgun shack with her best friend.
— when she turned eight, her father became an alcoholic after her mother left; her brother, Joey, who was seven years older and took on a parentified, older brother role due to both their father's addiction and because he works nights at a nearby diner as a line cook.
— her first (positive) experiences of realizing she was trans was with her brother, who did drag at a cabaret two towns over. He would play dress up with her, and to use Judy's words directly (because I'm currently writing a short story about her lol): It was Joey’s queerness that made me feel like my own was okay.
— tw: mentions of suicide and self harm — Joey takes his own life when Judy is sixteen. Since Judy was fourteen, she has struggled with her own mental health.
— her best friend, who remains unnamed for DRAMA purposes, becomes the person she leans on most. He is who she comes out to besides Joey.
— at 19, she splits town. It takes her awhile before she fully makes her way to Hamtramck, showing up at around 21. She seemingly came here to find someone, though she has yet to. Her initial interest in the town's nightlife and her involvement in the community came from this search, and she stays because she found so much more love than she ever thought capable. When she struggled with thoughts of taking her own life, she said once, Someone’s gotta see what it’s like to be whole. In Hamtramck, that's what she found.
— started off by bartending at the Hamtramck Pub, waitressing at Polina, and then running the box office at the Sanctuary. Being a person who enjoys going out when she has time off, she wormed her way into the heart of the owner of Outer Limits Lounge and started to DJ there regularly.

IN GENERAL:
— an incredibly lively, yet crass person; hella involved in the underground music scene (probably a radio DJ for the local station and nearby bars, along with hooking people up with gigs), along with mutual aid programming, union recruitment, and queer advocacy. She often hitches a ride uptown to volunteer at Affirmations in Ferndale, which is the suburb just before Detroit.

EXTRAS:
⋆ i know i made her "the punk" but i would say she is not tied down to labels in any regard, really. She listens to all types of music and tends to have a fluid sense of fashion. HOWEVER, I would say she's the "punk" because of how involved she is in the scene and the community at large.
⋆ works a bunch of odd jobs to make ends meet a lot of the time; if you have a job for her, let her know!
⋆ frequenter of the movie theater downstairs; Mrs. B gives her (and her roomies) free food a lot of the time)
⋆ she is literally always doing something, going somewhere, or just coming back. You would be shocked to find out she still manages to get a full seven hours of sleep
⋆ surprisingly a beer person ???
⋆ definitely had her drugged out phase and does still return to it sometimes
⋆ rarely talks about her past lives, but yet you get a real good sense of who she is nonetheless
⋆ hates children with a passion
⋆ also just kinda bitchy and quick to anger? she's an angry person deep down with a lot of resentments
⋆ a person who rants about stuff they're passionate about, good or bad; a hater to the bone; cannot say they love something without at least ONE criticism
⋆ the type of person to crochet a blanket while DJing at a club and nursing a PBR
⋆ doesn't exactly have a career in mind or even really thinking about her future. Her mentality is like "I didn't think I would get this far... now what?"
⋆ spur of the moment; down to do almost anything at any given moment; will be the person that drives with you to Ohio at 2 in the morning for Waffle House
⋆ she has a surprisingly powerful singing voice and maybe even can do death-growling really well; really into horror punk and 70s disco; would love for her to be in a band? could see her as the occasional vocalist and the manager lmao.
⋆ moonlights as a bartender, volunteers at Affirmations, attends a labor union collective every other month, DJs on the radio occasionally and weekly at a bar, hooks friends up with gigs if asked, co-founder of Hamtramck Mutual Aid — if you can't find her, you're better off just waiting until she comes home lmao

 

[aeneas.]

chester finch ; the prep

teeth ripped from the gums of childhood.

♡coded by uxie♡

╰┈➤ Something in me wants more. I can't rest.

FULL NAME: Chester Finch.
AGE: twenty-three.
ROLE: the prep.
SEXUALITY: bisexual, masc leaning.
PRONOUNS: he/him.
VISAGE: A gangly thing at 6'2" with large prescription glasses framing grey eyes and sandy blonde hair that had taken a shaggier form once upon a time. Typically dressed in a hodge podge mix and match of premium quality Italian leather coats and moth-hole-ridden turtlenecks, Chester reeks of old money bled dry. Regardless, a spark of confidence and attitude twists around his aristocratic features and pianist fingers. The smell of perpetual judgment, Dior Fahrenheit, and cigarettes follow his every proud step against grimy tiles, moving in such a way that almost asks for a challenge—an ear to chew on.
AESTHETICS: here.

CONCEPT: Chester is an acquired taste, a taste seldom indulged in at that. Acidic. Dry. Oxidized. Though some may go as far as to say he was less of the consumed and more of the consumer. Hedonistic. Insatiable. Unsatisfied. A man who dangles on the tightrope of too caring and uncaring — as if afraid to suffer a fate similar to a child getting burnt against a hot stovetop. Passion was a sickness and indifference had been an oh-so-familiar antibiotic swallowed down his gullet; side effects included his abrasive nature, a nasty nicotine addiction, and the throbbing pains at the back of his skull that sounded too much like his father. It urged him to argue until his throat gave out and his knuckles turned white because "there is no such thing as free lunch, Chester Finch." A rare saying the two men could agree on.

It would be the same saying that would finally sentence Chester's accountancy track to death and his ties to his family along with it.

In some ways, being written out of both of his parents' wills, having his trust fund revoked, and running away to dumbfuck Michigan for a theatre degree, was good for Chester's character growth. Made him less of the pile of bones found in a drunken stupor after a brutal club crawl during finals season and more of a functioning member of society who worked at the public library and helped senior citizens understand the Dewey Decimal System. Filing down his sharp attitude and greedy taste to a more palatable degree; his fangs held less venom. It was... different now. He stood taller, finally putting the etiquette lessons from boarding school to good use and his eyes harbored something other than resentment. Had it been... hope? No—hope was a fool's dream. A belief as hollow as a parent's promise to their snot-faced brat that Santa Claus would slide down their chimney and give them a present for being good.

What Chester had was ambition. It was an aching feeling in the pit of his stomach that demanded satiation. Demanded a point to be made. Demanded greatness. An opportunity was presented to him in the academic equivalent of a gift with a big red bow on top and god damn it, Chester was going to make good use of it.

—
​

MISCELLANEOUS FUN STUFF:
— an only child; grew up in a home too big for him with too little company.

— may or may not have taken his father's chevrolet camaro with him in the move (definitely took his father's chevolet camaro with him)

— he is a full-ride scholar for creative writing and theatre at the college for creative studies and he somehow manages to use it as a talking point in every argument he's in.

— all bark and no bite, truly a big softie deep down; is usually the designated driver in most of the social circles he's in (mostly because he's typically the only one with a car) it is also this circumstance that has him morphed from the most wasted man on social outings to the most sober. it's a love-hate feeling.

— does a lot of oddball gigs on the side of his job at the public library. a couple of tutoring sessions, a shady freelance editing hustle with a sleazeball playwright, and a slow entrance into the local drag scene (he's still workshopping his artist name but is playing around currently as merrian web)

— minus his fussy nature and inability to cook, chester is a pretty decent roommate. he cleans after himself, pays on time, and often shares his end-of-the-week boxed wine.

— despite his hatred of his previous academic track, he is extremely good at mental math. a reluctant human calculator.

— he has been working on a play for two years and hasn't shown or told anyone jack shit about it. there are days he locks himself in his room just to focus and get it done. his roommate can definitely hear him screaming and throwing shit during these episodes + their garbage after is just 65% paper with chickenscratch writing.

 

[.V1LLAINISM._]

W. LOCKHART ; THE BRAINS

# WHEN I THINK OF GOD, I THINK OF HIDING.

# THE WAY A CHILD HIDES. IN HOPE OF BEING FOUND

♡coded by uxie♡

— DOSSIER.



— NAME; Wolfgang “Wolfe” J. Lockhart. Though synonymously known as “Lockhart” alone… And Junior to his father, the great Wolfgang Lockhart.
— AGE; 21
— AKA; The BRAINS.
—SEXUALITY + PRONOUNS; He/Him. Bicurious, Demiromantic.
— VISAGE; A tall, wiry-looking man of six foot four inches, amongst his peers, Lockhart perpetually stands a few heads taller, remains a constant landmark in a pile of bodies. Though with a more awkward posture, he’s often faced with an inward collapse, a shrinkage that draws him closer to his more vertically- challenged peers. After all, he’s always been in a constant state of wanting to be known yet fearing the reality of being found out, & his appearance is something just as contradictory. Brown curls falling into a natural, neat part, paired with a less-than crisp shirt, slacks & bold cacti socks, beat-up sneakers, his blazer haphazardly flung over one shoulder, tie askew, what little care he had in maintaining appearances has since flown out the window. A late-night reckoning now half-committed lifestyle. He’s since realized that none of it truly fucking matters…. Or does it ?

Still, every morning he reaches back for that same tie, that shirt, that blazer. Still, with one foot plunged deep into the waters of longing, he hopes to be what he was always supposed to. Something great, exceptional, something better than he’s ever been before.

— CONCEPT; Being a person was never something that came naturally to him. He was always a creature in a constant state of learning, trying to emulate. Trying to mimic, to practice the effortless charisma, the conversation that seemed to flow like melodies through the mouths of his peers, though would become garbled, mistaken when the spotlight landed on him. A nervous, restless thing, he once believed that if he tried hard enough, if he was diligent enough, that he too could become good. That he could live up to the expectations precedent to him, be what he was so destined to be. He once believed - for a short period of time - that he was. A straight A student & valedictorian at Philips Academy, competition was always fierce - but he, with a lineage practically forged from gold, & a father who always knew better, was unstoppable… Suffice to say, he was hardly well-liked by his peers, often left to his own devices, studying into the long hours of the night as the echoes of brewing memories cascaded around him.

But he was always good at blocking the doubt out, the fear, the truth, too. Until his acceptance letter at Harvard arrived in the mail one fine evening, and until the following autumn, when he was no longer the most exceptional, the most intelligent, nor the most dedicated person in the room. He tried hard, he always had to try hard, but this time was different. Because unlike his peers, unlike his father, he lacked that fine stroke of genius, that talent, that x factor, & hard work only did so much but get his foot through the door. So, while his ex-peers could write in prose insurmountable to him (despite his vast vocabulary), while his peers had already made discoveries & expected greatness from his own namesake, he somehow always fell short. Always. It was then, when Lockhart realized, that he was never special to begin with, not even once. That he was doomed to a life of mediocrity. How foolish he was to believe anything but, how embarrassing. If anything - he knows this now - all he was ever good for was recitation; spewing out words & formulas that weren’t his, could never be within his capacity. He was never extraordinary & he never would be. Not then, not now, not ever.

A nervous breakdown is what they call it. When the doubt finally takes over, when the fear rains down on you. He’d stopped attending his pre-med lectures, stopped setting foot on campus to begin with. He was, in the end, another phantom of aspiration, avoidant in nature, returning no calls, no letters no matter how much they reeked of desperation, demanded answers. He didn’t know himself anymore & if he were being honest, he didn’t know if he ever really had. All that he knew for certain was this: that he could no longer stay where he could no longer survive. So off he set, with what little money he had set aside & a shabby leather trunk - the initials W.L. carved beneath the handle.

---

Lil tidbits :3

Comes from old money & is the youngest of three, with large age gaps (15-20 years) between him & his two older siblings. his father is renowned for making great contributions to the medical research field as was his father’s father. his mother’s family is tied to European aristocracy - and he’s almost certain they still hold a noble title or a castle somewhere.

Germanic/European ancestry, though he’s accumulated profound knowledge in Latin & Greek, as he’s fond of archaic languages.

Night owl-ish tendencies, though he tries not to bother his roommates as he ventures to grab a midnight snack or a new book to read.

Has tried to take up morning jogs, in order to stay active, not very good at them though.

Knows about a thousand different things & has about a thousand different (mostly irrelevant) opinions stored in his back pocket, & often comes off as a smart-ass, though he mostly means well. ND-coded, doesn’t really know what to say or how to say it so most of the time, even though he may come off differently, he’s sincere in his efforts to formulate a sentence in correspondence to his perceptions.

A sarcastic, witty roomate who doesn’t exactly know how to hold still. He can be blunt, though not always with foul-intent as well as critical, with the unfortunate ability to offend without meaning to, which makes him disagreeable & much more of an acquired taste - though he tries his best to behave otherwise.

If there was one word to describe him though, it would be antsy. Because if his knee isn’t bobbing, then his thumbs are twiddling, if his thumbs aren’t twiddling then he’s likely fiddling - or worse, disassociating.

A slightly messy roomate, may be a dealbreaker but he finds comfort in intuition & (usually) always knows where everything is.

He also happens to have a secret collection or project, one he returns to privately every now & again.

His most prized possession (besides his beloved cacti socks) is a snow globe, gifted to him by a former teacher, prior to his leave for boarding school. sometimes he’ll stare into it, wishing he was in there instead of… here.

Knows how to read sheet music, middling in violin but exceptional at piano.

Very into film, works as a projectionist at mrs bugalski’s theatre, whom oddly enough, seems to enjoy his company just as much as he enjoys hers. sometimes when the theatre’s empty he’ll put something on to suit more of his own tastes, grab a bucket of popcorn & take a seat.

Used to work at a local bookstore stocking shelves, but got fired for arguing with customers & bad-mouthing quote on quote “overrated” & “sellouty” authors. Is technically banned but likes to stand outside during off hours & criticize the terrible books on display.

Completely avoidant when it comes to talking about his family, his future or the fact that he practically abandoned a very promising life. it seems like he threw it all away & a part him constantly wonders if he did. never answers a phone call & in fact, will watch it ring until the sound dissipates, in fear of confronting his father. also very private about his emotions, his health & overall well-being. takes librium & certain mood stabilizers when no one’s watching, “prescribed” by a close family friend.

Pre-medical sciences student formerly set for med school & residency. well-versed in the applications & knowledge of the medical world having grown up around doctors, nobel-prize winners, researchers etc. has a knack for analyzing people’s “symptoms,” & his skills often come in handy with first aid disasters & the overall need for assistance.

 

[miyabi]

C. CHENG ; THE OUTCAST

#IF YOU COULD RETURN.

#DON'T LET IT BURN

♡coded by uxie♡

— DOSSIER.

NAME

Cecelia 'C.C.' Cheng

AGE

22 Years Old

GENDER IDENTITY

Questioning

PRONOUNS

She/They

SEXUAL ORIENTATION

Pansexual; currently in a tumultuous relationship with a man she interned with. Someone break them up, make her leave him or something.

CONCEPT

At first blush, the world had not granted her the grace of a peaceful life. While tribulations of family dynamics were less-than-exciting, the monotony of it all, the hurt, it lent itself to Cecelia and nothing but existence. A lack of excitement, a lack of adventure, there is only that but what she knows now; not who she is, but that the world will continue to spin whether or not you are trying to catch your bearings. Her brilliance was not in academics, not the outlook that her parents had wanted, so she shoved it down. Keep your head down, never make a sound, never share your musings; stay in school, get better grades than the average student, go to the university that your parents want you to go to — don’t think about straying from the path. It’s safer that way, more welcoming. If you didn't exist, how could anyone hurt you, make fun of you, ensure that you couldn't succeed? Her parents only wanted the best for her, but in their sheltering came a young woman whose self-worth had become battered; a young woman who knew not of who she was, what she wanted; a young woman whose aspirations were crushed from the moment she could hold a pencil.

Who is she but a lump of flesh? A thoughtless being whose only existence was to appease the needs and wants of her parents, to live up to the brilliance of her older brother; that is what she is here for, that is who she must be. Though her heart, as it aches, yearns for something more — even if that is not what fate has intended for her.

An artist, curious; an antsy mess of paint strokes, loud music, and isolation. That is who Cecelia is, even if she is unsure of that. She hid her strengths, thought that they weren’t the strengths her family wanted — no, she knew. And so, rather than delving deeper into her hobbies and loves, she had cemented herself into a world in which she had no interest in.

Because of this, her lack of interest in being around others, the lack of interest in parties and social outings had served to her detriment.

In the end, however, nothing fucking matters. Not you, not her, not the life that she lived or the lack thereof; so maybe, she should take it upon herself to enjoy the life that she is living now. To explore what she hasn’t, to do what she always wasn’t able to do — to break free from the mold she had been forced into. It may not be what her parents want, but for now, this is what Cecelia wants. To live, to love, to enjoy the only life she will lead: yes, she will go to that party — granted, she’ll watch the waves of bodies; yes, she will paint, maybe not a portrait of you, but of something she finds beautiful.

Don’t keep your head down, don’t wait for someone to speak over you, don’t let others speak for you; that is who she is now, that is who she will be in the years to come. That is, unless the crippling grasp of self-doubt shoves its hands down her throat just as it has done in the years before.

— EXTRA INFO
Is the second eldest to 4 boys; favored by her father for being the only girl.

Her family owns a Chinese restaurant where she is a part-timer at temporarily; they are currently hiring and she oversees the applications, though during the interview process, acceptance must be approved by her parents. This is dependent on whether or not they like them.

Was formerly a Medical Sciences Major, but eventually switched to Film; she'd gotten into a heated argument with her parents over it, but they accepted it after the fighting. She wasn't backing down from the decision.

Volunteers at the local food bank, it helps with her social anxiety -- even if she sees the same faces.

Not one of those roommates that are easy to talk to -- not because she is difficult, but because of the fact that she is always in her room. And if she isn't, she likely isn't walking around the apartment; maybe look for her on the roof or something.

Speaks Mandarin, it's her first language.

Enjoys people watching, sometimes will fall silent in conversation to observe others; though the people she talk to often lead the conversation and have no problem with her silence.

Graduated high school with a 4.2 GPA, but that came at the cost with her social life. She was bullied throughout her time in elementary, middle, and high school despite the advice her parents gave her. Maybe the advice is why she was picked on.

Is picking up side jobs here and there; tutoring, being a lifeguard, one time worked at a movie theater but quit on her first day after watching a child smear shit all over a bathroom stall while she was cleaning it.

Picks at the skin on her thumb when she is anxious, which is basically all the time; when you see her, there is usually a Hello Kitty bandage wrapped around it courtesy of her mother and her care packages.

SONG PLAYLIST

PINTEREST BOARD

 

[Pepsionne]

Damon Taylor ; the burnout

I was interested in everything and committed to nothing -- G.D Roberts

♡coded by uxie♡

— NAME : Damon Taylor
— AGE: 22
— ROLE: the burnout
— SEXUALITY + PRONOUNS: he/him, bisexual
— VISAGE: damon’s lost count of the amount of times he’s gotten the infamous “did you just wake up?” comment from an acquaintance or customer. His messy brown curls in a perpetual state of bedhead, dark circles and deeper set eyes don’t help all that much, and most of the time the answer is actually--yes, he did just wake up. The young man stands at an average 5’10”, but with a posture always in some sort of lazy lean or slouch he comes across as 5’9” or 5’8”. A few patchwork tattoos gotten in a drunken impulse (most homemade), decorate his limbs. A pale complexion echoes his favor of late night adventures over wholesome time in the sun.
— PERSONALITY: Damon is the type of person that is easy to not take seriously. He doesn’t even take himself seriously half the time if he’s being honest. He’s likened himself to a leaf bobbing on the surface of a stream, going wherever the flow of life decides is next. What’s the point of stressing about it all anyways? He likes his current life, he likes his current responsibilities, and he’s not all that keen on changing any of it anytime soon. The future could wait--or at least he’d like it to.
Most of the things in Damon’s life have happened to him, rather than because of him. He doesn’t put up much of a fight for the things he wants, largely in part to the fact that he doesn’t really want anything. He’ll flit around to a bunch of different hobbies or events, but it’s rare to see the man ever really commit to anything with passion, other than his grow project and gardening. Maybe it’s a fear of failure that holds him back. Can’t be bad at something you never try--right?
For as ‘go with the flow’ that Damon comes across, there are very strict boundaries that he sets for himself. Things that keep him in his comfort zone. Things that keep him safe from change. He doesn’t deal with instability well, and he likes how free he can be when he knows what to expect from his life. Breach one of his boundaries, and a more paranoid, fearful Damon will emerge, desperate to stop the shifting foundation under his feet.
— BACKGROUND: damon's lived in Hamtramck his whole life. Raised by a single mother whose full efforts were exhausted by keeping food on the table and a roof above their head, he never imagined that there was anything to life beyond getting through to the next month. Some years were tougher than others, though, and despite her best efforts, Damon spent periods of time living with his grandfather while his mother attempted to get back on her feet. He regards his grandfather as the dad he never had. Time with his grandfather meant time learning valuable life skills that he otherwise would've gone without. Cooking, cleaning, housework. Through his grandfather was where Damon first learned to garden. The passion has grown ever since.
He was a fidgety kid in school, his attention better focused on flitting around the classroom or drifting outside instead of the lessons being taught. His lack of attention was something his teachers regarded as a choice, rather than a diagnosis, leaving Damon to fall behind very early and very fast. He managed to skate through elementary and middle school somehow, leaving him with a low gpa and low expectations in high school. There wasn't much surprise when guidance counselors began sliding forward lists of job opportunities rather than college applications. Not like he'd be able to afford one anyways. He was already shifting through a tumultuous cycle of odd jobs by the time he was in his teens. Whether he feared the commitment or feared the opportunity to fail, Damon never lasted long enough in one position to find out. It wasn't until his senior year that he stumbled across the idea for a grow project. What started as an extra plant hidden in the back of his grandfather's garden to supply him and his friends soon tumbled into something bigger. About a year after he graduated Damon was making steady enough business on his grow project to afford a place of his own, and the amount of plants were getting harder and harder to keep under wraps. He moved into his unit behind the theater, and with such a prime space for his business to thrive, Damon hasn't felt the urge to move since.
— EXTRAS:
— has always been praised for having a green thumb
— pretty clean as a roommate, so long as you can stand the amount of plants he’ll try to bring in and the
gardening supplies he has littered around the apartment. (bonus--free veggies in the summer!)
— on top of having his grow project in the basement, Damon keeps a small garden in the backyard where he grows different fruits and veggies. He shares them with the other residents of the apartment complex. (The fresh produce also gives him some brownie points with Mrs. B)
— walking into damon's room, you wouldn't think that he makes a good amount of money off of his neighborhood supply. His mattress lays on the floor, most of his furniture is thrifted/repurposed (milk crates for storage, old wooden dresser/desk, loose books scattered everywhere, wine bottles used as candle holders, etc.)
— the most notable thing about damon's room is that he has plants EVERYWHERE. They line the floors, clutter the window and take up most of his desk/dresser space. He has a bad habit of impulsively buying any plant that catches his interest or looks like a challenge to care for.
— When he was in middle school, his mother had another child to a man not too keen on sticking around. Damon helped out caring for his little brother when they alternated from being at home to their grandfather's. Occasionally he'll babysit Julian when his mother is in a pinch.

 

[Steve Jobs]

The entrepreneur (unless i change my mind again)
Wip

full name here

# the entrepreneur

# rick moranis

♡coded by uxie♡

"Quote Here"​

— Name
— Age
— Role (the roles given are completely optional and don't have to be interpreted exactly. However, whether you're making a complete OC or using the roles as a starting point, please write down a role "title.")
— Sexuality + Pronouns
— Visage (fc or description)

 

[stargrrl.]

lavinia ayler; the muse

All your life you've never seen

A woman taken by the wind

♡coded by uxie♡

— NAME: Lavinia Ayler
— NICKNAME(S): Lav
— AGE: Twenty-two
— ROLE: The Muse
— SEXUALITY + PRONOUNS: Bisexual , she/her

— VISAGE: fc. Suki Waterhouse
Lavinia is a languid line, all lithe figure, mini skirts and chipped nail polish. Her dirty blonde hair is cut just below her shoulders, layers framing her perpetually pouting face, features usually schooled in a disinterested expression. Technically 5ft7, but her preferred choice of heeled boot would lead one to believe she was at least three inches taller than that. Her eyes are usually ringed in dark eyeliner, making the already deep brown irises appear almost black. She likes to think that she moves through life with a certain amount of grace, a carefully trained unhurried physicality, prone to lounging across furniture like a cat and walking at an annoying slow pace.

— CONCEPT: The Muse.
An idea, a literary and mythological concept more than a person.

“I’m not good for much else”

Lavinia finds that her mere existence is often enough to make wannabe creatives believe that they have discovered a fountain of inspiration. Hand rolled cigarettes, references to old French films, a disinterested stare, tousled hair and heavy eyeliner are all she needs to spark the creative fires of the mediocre artists she comes across. Moving from one to another whenever the compliments get too predictable, or their creations too emotionally charged. Although the satisfaction is brief and fleeting, the satisfaction is still there, and the whole rigmarole is much less work than trying and failing to make something of her own.

— PERSONA:
Lavinia is a person best enjoyed under the influence. Whether that’s drugs, alcohol, or just a very strong antihistamine, the shifting nature of her persona is easier to romanticise when there’s padding to soften the edges. An iridescence surrounds her like oil spilled on tarmac, interesting to look at but messy if you get anywhere near it, its shape and colours changing each time you tilt your head.

Inconsistency is a cornerstone of Lavinia’s psyche, as soon as she feels herself falling into a routine alarm bells go off, a bright glaring neon sign reading STUCK burns the inside of her eyelids when she tries to relax, the feeling doesn’t subside until she’s rearranged her room, or broken off her current relationship, or quit her job, or cut all her hair off.

That inconsistency exists in every facet of persona. Her charm is loose and languid like every other aspect of her life, bred from a healthy mixture of arrogance, self-deprecating humour, the ability to listen and the ability to appear disinterested and a genuine lack of concern for how she comes across. Even Lavinia's desire for social contact is inconsistent. The mostly sociable girl will fall into days of depression, holing herself up alone, recharging her social battery until a three day bender seems like a good time.

Although constantly surrounded by ‘friends’ lavinia’s unknowability contributes to that charm, the element of mystery and the fact that those around her are never really burdened with her worries or fears or ails which Lavinia has no problem curing herself with a healthy dose of high abv beverages, cheap weed and random hook ups.

Her unhappiness usually manifests in her self-destructive tendencies; toxic relationships, isolating herself, hurting people she loves and when she was nineteen she did invest in a pyramid scheme to get a date with a girl.

It could be argued that her disinterest with life comes from a place of laziness, which would explain the fact that she has never gone actively pursued any sort of life course after she dropped out of her first semester of art college, always moving from one scene to the next, prioritising ‘networking’ over any feasible work. But what’s more accurate is that Lavinia is terrified to fail, and trying once was enough for her to not try again, if she can pass that off as some sort of intellectual apathy for life, well then so be it.

The facade covers up that sliver of light in the crack of the glass, only exposing itself to certain people. Her sisters or close friends, in fact Lavinia is incredibly loyal and protective of those she cares about. Some may argue this comes from a place of concealed possessiveness, born from repeated emotional repression, but to give her the benefit of the doubt Lavinia is someone in reality who feels very deeply, so much so that it may be better if she felt nothing at all.

— HISTORY:
Lavinia was born at 3am on July 1st in Arlington, Texas to valedictorians of their respective high schools, Olivia and Tony Ayler. The second of three girls Lav was the token middle child, a fussy newborn that grew up into a fussy teenager. Being raised in a small town outside the city, life was boring, the type of boring that meant as she got older Lavinia and her sisters went looking for trouble.

Her father worked too much and her mother couldn't work at all, Olivia and Tony were the type of couple who should’ve been divorced a year after they said yes, but were both too set in their ways and interested in keeping up appearances at church to actually do anything about it. Daria, the oldest Ayler daughter, five years Lavinia's senior, taught her younger sister everything she needed to know about what was truly important; underage drinking, bumming cigarettes from old men, and shoplifting.

Lavinia took to these vices like a fish to water, but as time went on struggled with the ‘fitting in’ portion of Daria’s lessons. As a child she would wake in her child hood bed screaming and crying to be brought home. When advised to bring Lavinia to a psychologist Olivia Ayler nodded demurely and then laughed to herself the whole drive home. It wasn’t until Lavinia was fifteen and started hanging out with the ‘weird’ kids that she felt some kinship. Smoking weed and box bleaching her hair were simple acts of rebellion the Ayler family couldn’t comprehend.

Although, her problem child years were cut short by Daria’s sudden illness in her sophomore year of college. Suddenly Lavinia being out of the house, out of the way of visitors and doctors, was a good thing, Even if she spent these unsupervised hours drinking lukewarm vodka from a plastic water bottle in a farmer's backyard.

When it came around, Daria's death was simultaneously sudden and not. She had been sick for three years, Lavinia was eighteen and that following September she started attending Arlington University after convincing her grief-ridden parents to allow her to major in Art. Lavinia lasted until January but kept up the pretense of attending until that summer, when the boyfriend she had been living with kicked her to the curb the morning his high school sweetheart came back from college. Upon finding this out Olivia and Tony kicked Lavinia out, promising she was still welcome in their home but never to live there, and certainly not when she was disrespecting her sisters legacy. Whatever the fuck that meant.

Lavinia spent the next year and a half couch surfing, living in bedsits and renting apartments that were practically closets with en suites in New York. It was supposed to be an artsy, la boheme-esque struggle but in reality it was a substance fueled cycle of finding and losing jobs all the while promising to actually start painting when she found her feet.

After enough bad experiences to make her shudder when she saw the Manhattan skyline, Lavinia spent a brief stint in Chicago and then found herself in Hamtramck. Michigan was a far cry from where she had aspired to. But it was cheap and far from home with an okay social scene and enough businesses to allow for a steady migration through the payrolls of Hamtramck’s cafes, restaurants, bars and stores. Although Lavinia has been itching to move on since she arrived, complacency has overtaken any ambition she had left, leaving very little of her left to question her half-existence.

 

[honeycoves]

Ricky St. James ; The Athlete

and all your dreams you keep inside, you're telling me the secrets you just can't hide

♡coded by uxie♡

lord, i was born a ramblin' man ─ IMPORTANT INFO
─ RICKY / SAINT ( ricky lee st. james )
─ Name Meaning: ricky "poewerful leader" lee "meadow" st. james "son of james"
─ Nicknames: ricky, saint, st. james, rick
─ Gender: cisgendered male
─ Pronouns: he/him
─ Age: 21
─ Birthdate: may 27th
─ Role: the athlete

tryin' to make a livin' the best i can ─ VISUALS
─ Appearance: ricky is a tall young man, standing on the thinner side of stature. his slender frame and penchant for baggy t-shirts and equally baggy blue jeans hide the subtle, lean muscle that would hint his athleticism to you. a horrible slouch in his shoulders sometimes betrays his height. his peachy skin is marred by freckles, dotting their way across his face, shoulders, and arms, from countless summers playing out in the sun. when his full, pink lips part you can see the small gap between his two front teeth, which is probably the reason he often poses for pictures with a closed mouth. st. james also has an awful habit of hiding in his shaggy, dark hair. he finds comfort in the safety of his brunette mullet, his bangs hitting his even darker, straight brows, and the longest bits of the cut flipping up just above his shoulders. his dark blue eyes portray a quality of uncertainty, like he can't decide who he is supposed to be that day.
─ Height: 6'2
─ Body Modifications: he had glasses at some point, but he hasn't worn them since junior high. he claims his eyesight is just okay enough to get by without them. his earlobes are pierced, sometimes you might see them with small gold hoops in them, but usually it's just the holes. it's the holes especially in the spring and summer times.
─ Scars: you might notice some light scars hidden amongst the leg hair from getting cleated a time or two over the years.
─ Faceclaim: jason london((may change to matt dillon IF i get too frustrated trying to find resources at some point lmao))
── ACCESSORIES ᳂ he's a big fan of this white shell necklace he owns, you'll see him wearing it frequently
── INJURIES ᳂ none yet
── SCENT ᳂ pine, with just a touch of vanilla and something smoky

and when it's time for leavin' ─ PERSONALITY
᳂ ─ Overall Personality: ricky used to be a stereotypical jock. his confidence— excluding the lack he had for his smile— radiated off the charts. he had a cool disposition, a strut in his walk, and he knew he could get just about anything in the world. well, out of his peers anyway. he was fairly conceited, cocky, arrogant. just about what you'd expect from a star athlete, the king in the social hierarchy of his high school. but since wayne state, he hasn't been the same person. what once was a confident, outgoing young man is now a quiet, somewhat shy individual. any hint of confidence has completely left his body, unless he's blackout drunk or having a good game. now, he hides behind a curtain of shaggy bangs and a terrible slouch, his blue eyes avoiding any eye contact that might somehow let everyone know he doesn't actually belong.

his new personality is one people find to be very palatable. he's very often a neutral party. don't ask him to get in the middle of an argument, because he likely won't. he tries to retreat from conflict when he can. he won't even mediate. it's not really his thing, he hates conflict, and good luck if you really try to push him into it. he used to have a mean temper that he's tried to keep at bay since starting college. while he is often incredibly patient, too much pushing will cause him to snap rather than to bend. when angry like that, which he rarely is, he loses a little bit of control. violence is always an absolute last resort(you'd have to mess up big time to get him to that extreme), but you might get him yelling and grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. he's fairly easy to placate when in a state like that, he believes apologies and doesn't like risking his future. he's very quick to back down.

don't get the wrong idea about him though! he's a good boy who means well. older folks seem to like him a lot because of his polite manners. he'll always want to help his friends, they're one of the few places he feels like he belongs most of the time. he's been struggling hardcore with his identity, which why he's sort of a quiet, shy, blank slate of a man who gets uncomfortable showing too much emotion. while he would never admit it, the young man has a terrible sinking feeling that he's stupid. he doesn't usually feel adequate enough to carry on conversations that need any level of intelligence and feels stupid and ignorant in comparison to some of those he hangs out with. he does okay in school, but he's no prodigy. so he tries to be a good friend instead. he'll always be there for you, even though he doesn't know how to comfort others. he's much more humble now, and easy to embarrass. ricky can be fairly naive, too, as someone who wants to believe in the good of others like he wants to believe in the good in himself that he struggles to see. he wants to be liked, so he's pretty influenceable and usually bends over to please others. he's kind, which gets taken advantage of a lot, but he doesn't really know what else he has to offer people.

i hope you'll understand ─ RELATIONS
─ Family:
── robert st. james - father
── gloria st. james - mother
── daniel "dan" st. james - older brother
── beth st. james - twin sister
─ Backstory: ricky was born in a small town out in appalachia, but both of his parents' families are from michigan, so he grew up visiting all the time. his childhood was pretty quiet. they used to have a small ranch, but when it started to struggle financially, robert went and got a bonified job selling insurance and gloria and the kids were left behind to keep the farm afloat and running. they couldn't afford any extra hands, so labor was divided amongst them. beth helped gloria in the house and the kitchen, patching up the holes in dan and ricky's pants and jackets, cleaning, cooking, while dan and ricky took care of the animals, throwing hay, and scaring off the increasing coyote population. it was tough, balancing family responsibilities and school. he didn't spend nearly enough time on his homework or his readings. instead, he swung at rocks with old two-by-fours in the cattle pasture. he and dan used to play catch out there. somewhere along the way, he got an opportunity to start playing baseball and he fell in love. he had an immediate knack for it, and, it made both dan and his father proud of him. it became a part of him.

as he got older, his talent for the sport only grew. he was a star catcher for how young he was, and could bat pretty well too. and he was growing like a weed. however, baseball detracted from his ability to help on the ranch. things were very tight, money-wise, and all his gloves, cleats, bats, uniforms, were all bought second-hand because the st. jameses couldn't afford anything else. then, when ricky was 12, his older brother dan was diagnosed with brain cancer. the only way robert and gloria could afford to save their 16 year old son was to sell the ranch for what little it was worth, sell the animals(including ricky's favorite cow, blondie, and the boys' cattle dogs, grizz and bear), and move back to michigan with gloria's parents. when dan was 18, he entered remission.

when ricky started high school, he was immediately put on the varsity baseball team. he was a talented batter and an even more talented catcher, earning him fame with his peers at deer valley high school. his skill and handful of broken school records caught the attention of recruiters. by his senior year, he had a full-ride offer to texas tech, who had one of the best baseball programs in the nation at that point. however, not long before graduation, dan's cancer returned. dan moved back home, and his parents returned to taking responsibility for caring for him. which meant the money they saved to help ricky move to texas, which is all he would need for school, was pivoted to pay for more of dan's medical expenses. so, ricky stayed in the area and attended wayne state. the baseball program was not one nationally recognized, but at least he got to play and he supposed getting an education was important. dan deteriorated fast, this time. he didn't make it. ricky received a call his first spring away at college that dan had passed away. he drove home for the funeral. at dan's funeral, his grandmother helped hook him up with a new place to live, after having heard the horror stories ricky was enduring in wayne state's housing. between the mold and his roommate from hell, he was miserable and needed a change.

ricky hasn't felt himself since starting college. he can't help but feel like he missed his only opportunity to be something great, his only opportunity to go to the mlb. he misses his best friend, his brother. and he can't help but feel guilty that he feels like he missed out, because missing out meant that everyone got more time with dan. he feels selfish. he knows he needs a career that isn't ball anymore, but he doesn't feel smart enough for any degree.
─ Sexuality: closeted bisexual, demiromantic
─ Relationship Status: single
─ Crush(es): none atm
─ Past Partners: he had a girlfriend for a quite some time, but she didn't stick around when he decided to stay in michigan. she said she had bigger ambitions than him, and would not be staying.

that i was born a ramblin' man ─ HCs
─ he drives a red pickup truck, which he inherited from dan.
─ he's a huge animal lover, loves to give them firm pats regardless of what kind of animal it is.
─ he's very frugal. the money he has is from scholarship money, most of which goes to housing, food, tuition, and any extra equipment he might need. his room is very empty, most of his belongings he inherited from dan or were bought second-hand. his shoes are always peeling apart and his close are always fraying at the seams. the routine of practice for baseball keeps him from getting an actual job most of the time, so he doesn't often work.
─ he likes to play guitar, and he's pretty decent. but he's shy about it and plays the acoustic as softly as possible. he'd be too embarrassed to ever really play for anyone. his guitar is one of the few items that fill his room.
─ early bird, usually up by 5:30am.
─ keeps a journal, but hides it under his bed with his playboys and other secret keepsakes.
─ doesn't talk about his family, doesn't talk to his family. whenever beth or his mother calls, he claims to be busy and hangs up. most people have no idea who dan is. or that ricky has any siblings.
─ only really lets go when he's really drunk, but it's a rarer occasion since he usually has practice in the morning.
─ he was held back in middle school one year, he struggled a lot with his reading and they wouldn't let him move on.
─ usually calls people by their last names or some nickname he's picked for them.
─ he's a business major, but you likely have never seen him do any homework whatsoever.
─ very closeted. his attraction to men makes him very nervous and he typically only acts on it when drunk.
─ he'd do anything for you if you're friends.
─ refuses to read anything outloud. he's a slow reader and dyslexic, so he struggles.
─ hates when people see him struggle.
─ baseball is practically his whole life. he's a stellar catcher. looks damn good in his uniform too. this will be the most likely time you'd catch him genuinely smiling and enjoying himself.
─ has no plans for his future.

lord, i was born a ramblin' man ─ PLAYLIST
─ ramblin' man - the allman brothers band
─ my sweet lord - george harrison
─ brandy (you're a fine girl) - looking glass
─ maggie may - rod stewart
─ my best friend's girl - the cars
─ bad moon rising - creedence clearwater revival
─ ( link here for full playlist )

 

[comfortable]

verlean davis ; the princess

Life is beautiful but you don't have a clue. sun and ocean blue their magnificence, it don't make sense

♡coded by uxie♡

‎BASICS
✰ Full Name: Verlean Amber Davis
✰ Nickname: Verla
✰ Age: Twenty-two
✰ Gender: Female; she/her
✰ Sexuality: Bicurious
✰ Birthday: May 15th 1964

✰ Visage: At a mere glance, it's clear that Verlean places immense importance on her appearance. Not a single strand of hair is amiss upon Verlean’s head. The trendiest OPI nail polish on her dainty fingers always remains flawless. Her shoulder-length wavy hair is straightened and shaped to near perfection every morning. Full lips stay drenched in vibrant red lipstick and dark brown eyes encircled by black mascara leave her looking nearly perfect. Towering at an impressive height of 5'5", Verlean boasts legs that dominate her svelte figure. However, beneath her attire, she conceals a roughly executed sparrow tattoo on her left side.

PERSONALITY
Verla, once like her sister Nicole in kindness and spiritedness, now carries the weight of their mother's passing and their grandmother's illness heavily on her shoulders and soul. Her entire purpose hinges on achieving greatness, a determination to prove her value to the world.Some might perceive her as bearing a chip on her shoulder, but Verla recognizes the necessity of prioritizing herself to attain her ambitions. In her worldview, she always takes importance over others, a mindset ingrained deeply within her. In her line of work, selfishness is requisite; Verla knows this well, having earned nothing through handouts, be it the title of Prom Queen or the life she fervently pursues.

Though she possesses the capability for friendliness, Verla seldom chooses to exhibit it. While not inherently malicious, she lacks a filter, often delivering unvarnished truths. Yet beneath her steely exterior, she comprehends that not everyone shares her fervor or drive. When faced with doubt regarding her audacious dreams, she responds not with resentment, but she simply grits her teeth and works harder.

✰ decisive, forgiving, independent, amiable, & hardworking
✰ selfish, pretentious, opinionated, insensitive & stubborn

HISTORY
Verlean and Nicole were always each other's constants, even in the cramped Brooklyn apartment where their Mama juggled three jobs and barely had thirty minutes to spare to drop off frozen meals. Their father only showed up when it suited him, usually when he needed money or a place to crash. In the dim hallway, Verlean would stand, with her twin sister peeking out from behind her, as their father, a stranger to them, slept on their couch reeking of booze.

On their ninth birthday, Mama returned home, her eyes swollen and face streaked with tears, hastily packing their belongings into worn suitcases. Verla noticed her trembling hands and the silent tears that accompanied her actions. That night, a knock shattered the solemn atmosphere, and Mama, with a finger to her lips, instructed the twins to remain quiet. Their father begged to be let in, his voice desperate and strained, pleading for Mama's forgiveness, claiming his affair meant nothing.

His betrayal drove the family to seek refuge with their grandmother in Detroit. Verlean and Nicole welcomed the chance to have their own rooms, unfazed by the absence of a father who had never been present. Flourishing in their unfamiliar school environment, they quickly garnered adoration due to their identical twin status. However, unlike Niki, Verla luxuriated in the spotlight, embracing her newfound popularity and newfound brilliance.

During their first year of high school, Mama returned to New York, promising to come back soon. Nicole struggled with her absence, while Verlean buried her anger beneath a facade of confidence, becoming indifferent to her twin's pain, indulging in gossip with her close friends. The Davis twins drifted apart, barely speaking by their second year of high school.

While their home life remained stifling, news arrived from New York that their mother had died in a drunk driving accident on her way back home. The loss devastated both twins, finally breaking their silence and strengthening their bond as they worked to mend their relationship. Six years later, Nicole stayed in Detroit to care for their grandmother, while Verlean pursued her dreams of becoming an actress at Wayne State University, fueled by a newfound determination to succeed.

Despite struggling to afford campus housing, Verlean's luck changed when she encountered Mrs. Bugalski, their landlady, offering a glimmer of hope for her future.

EXTRA
✰ always wakes up extra early so she can get the bathroom to herself without being rushed
✰ keeps her room a chaotic mess, as she knows where everything is but it constantly looks like a tornado ran through it
✰ pink is her favorite color, and nearly everything she owns is pink, this includes painting her walls a light shade of pink
✰ is blind as a bat, and only wears her glasses when studying, most of the time she's squinting like an 80-year-old woman
✰ diy queen, thrifting goddess, sewing siren; can always find the best deals
✰ while she keeps her money issues hidden, she always manages to look trendy and well-put-together
✰ her purse is always filled with anything and everything possible, band-aids, pads, hair ties, etc
✰ is a great cook and can always make something out of nothing
✰ smells like marshmallows and flowers
✰ theme song: carry me home by jorja smith
✰ works at the pub part-time, as a bartender, can be seen studying when the pub is slow

 

[Athens]

Jackson More | Party Animal

#Get Under The Problem Before You Get Over It

#Pretty Pink, Baby Blue

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[yokai.]

l. de la espada

the party animal

can't fight to save your life, but you look so cool

♡coded by uxie♡

⊹₊ ⋆ MOON BARKS AT THE DOG TONIGHT, DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN

— NAME: Lev De la Espada
— AGE: twenty-three
— ROLE: the party animal
— SEXUALITY: bisexual
— PRONOUNS: he/him; cis male

VISAGE: Lev stands at about 6'1" and is all corded muscle and sinew, kissed by the sun enough for a healthy dusting of freckles to cover deeply tanned skin. More often than not, there's a stupid grin on his face, split wide and dimpled, as an amused gleam overtakes black eyes. His hair is a perpetual mess of dark brown curls, a close visual reference would be Marlon Pendlebury. A single hoop earring dangles from his left ear. A few tattoos are strewn about his arms and shoulder blade, the most notable of them a simple black outline of a heart grenade.

STYLE: He wears a lot of distressed denim, white cotton tees + tanks, befitting of a working-class background, proudly worn-out. Lev occasionally opts for Dickies denim overalls, or Hawaiian shirts in bright colours, favouring warm hues. He likes to accessorize mainly with gold jewelry, such as a chain cross necklace or simple, nondescript rings. Lev is either channeling Baz Luhrman's R+J or Brokeback Mountain, and there's not really much room for an in-between.

---

⊹₊ ⋆ Young tongue set on fire, weep with me in 4/4 time​

CONCEPT: Lev has this mythical ability to charm almost anyone, armed with an unfailing ease and willingness to understand the previously misunderstood. He has always liked being around people, and meeting others where they're at has always been something like second nature to him. Lev is a warm shoulder to lean on, the loudest laugh in a crowded house party, and the most hedonistic bleeding heart you'll ever meet. He seems to find it easy to attune himself to just the right setting, like flipping through endless radio stations just to find the one that people like the most, something approachable and easy to fall in love with.

He has his fair share of vices — sex, drugs, smoking, and other unsavoury habits tend to keep him leashed to the wrong crowds. Lev is the everyman, having no trouble floating between friend groups with an enviable weightlessness. Because of this, he finds himself mediating tensions and, regretfully, breaking a few hearts more often than he'd like. Underneath it all lies something a little less grand, a lot more painful, the crushing realization of not knowing exactly who he is, separate from other people. Here is a man who is guided by the whims of the crowd, endlessly chasing a high that is becoming harder and harder to reach.

Lev has a difficult time putting his foot down, wanting to see the best in people until the bitter end. When he trusts people, he will do so without abandon, and extends it with a generosity that knows no bounds. He is the patron saint of second, third, or sixth chances, unable to help himself from picking up the broken pieces to try and make something meaningful out of the fractures. He accepts people for who they are, not who they pretend to be. Sometimes he wishes he could say the same for himself.

HISTORY:
➣ In the poorer quarters of Jacksonville, Florida, Lev grew up an only child, lovingly doted on by immigrant parents. Intertwined with his parents' affection was an undercurrent of well-intentioned Catholic indoctrination. They instilled the fear of god in him since before he could talk, and to this day there still exists that lingering fear, borne more out of obligation and habit than anything close to actual faith.
➣ Lev discovered his love for drumming at an early age, and was an avid participant in Catholic school talent shows. Sheltered as he was, his passion for music was a pulsating, half-formed thing that he couldn't bear to let go of. He was vivacious and popular, but very impressionable. Eventually he fell into the wrong crowd or rather, the wrong crowd found him. The allure of a different life became too enticing when he fell in love for the first time, led to make the daring decision to run away from home at sixteen. A spur-of-the-moment declaration of love that inevitably frayed when reality hit.
➣ Fumbling through the years, Lev relied on resourcefulness to scrape by, learning the value of community aid as he moved northward through transient living. He lived countless lives throughout the rust belt, settling down the longest in Indiana around his late teens. Odd jobs came and went, but liked auto mechanics enough to stick with it the most. Fortunately, it also tends to be the most lucrative out of all his gigs.
➣ The road eventually led him to Hamtramck, Michigan, a place where the lively music scene resonated with the deepest parts of himself. 1222 Casmere Ave has since become more than just an address; To Lev, it's more so the people surrounding him with whom he's found a home in, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

NOTES:
— drummer & part-time mechanic
— hangs out on the apartment rooftop to smoke, lost a couple shoes dangling his feet over the edge a few too many times
— full-body hugger, wraps his arms around you real tight and spins you around a lil
— children LOVE him, he will babysit for pocket change
— ½ Panamanian on his father's side, ½ Filipino on his mother's side
— the person you call to help you move in or pick you up from the airport; the number you have on speed-dial just in case you need a ride home from a really bad night out
— go-with-the-flow, lazy if his heart isn't in it, deadlines are sort of optional to him
— will casually flash hints of skin without any shame and makes it everyone's problem
— a lil bit of a harlot.... he'll have casual flings with just about anyone who gives him the right amount of attention (read: a FLIRT)
— has only fallen in love a few times, and that's all he'll say on the matter; is currently dating around, but hasn't connected with anyone enough to settle down quite yet
— involved in the underground music scene, usually works as a session drummer (meaning he's not a permanent member of any band, just accompanies different ones for live performances), dabbles in sound mixing
— has definitely moonlighted as a sound director for a few drag performances here and there, even played a few gigs as live music in between sets
— Catholic, but doesn't agree with the concept of redemptive suffering; putting yourself in pain to feel holy or pure is utter bullshit, and this is one the only things Lev will always be firm about
— believer in casual affection and is always down to cuddle, will ruffle your head in endearment as he heads out the door
— if he thinks he's inconveniencing you in any way, he will try to compensate as much as possible by making sure you're comfortable and catering to your every need; doesn't expect to receive the same treatment or be repaid
— no stranger to rough living, has been homeless before and mostly survived by crashing on friends' couches
— if he needs to cross state lines, he has no qualms about hitch-hiking just to save gas money
— white lies just to make you feel better {ex. "my Spanish is broken as fuck" in response to someone pronouncing his last name wrong)
— confrontation isn't something he is super well-versed in, and feels especially vulnerable whenever someone figures out his constant code-switching is actually a facade; will go uncharacteristically quiet and perhaps a little defensive
— forgetful and will need to be reminded sometimes to do the dishes or pick up after himself (lowkey he kinda lacks object permanence lmao)